


Getting Comfortable

by Vyc



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Humour, Relationship Growth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:23:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vyc/pseuds/Vyc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc's relationship with Carolyn is like no other he's had in his life. But the unexpected is what makes it fun--for the most part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting Comfortable

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a huge sucker for non-nuclear families, so when Herc found his way into Carolyn and Arthur's lives, well, that was it for me. I knew _exactly_ where my ficcing drive was taking me with this fandom.
> 
> I have another one written with this pair and a couple more ideas on top of that. None of them are particularly long, but you never know: that might change.
> 
> Thank you very much to Mars for her lovely, fast beta! ♥ Please drop by her page [here](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeonmars) and give her fics a look if you need a great way to spend an afternoon.

It had been, Herc concluded as he finished the last of his coffee, a wonderful romantic evening.

Well, "romantic" by his new standards, which were a fair bit different from any standards he had held at any point in his life. But that was Carolyn: one never did quite know what to expect with her.

The time they had spent together had been in the shape of a traditional evening out—dinner, the theatre, back to Carolyn's place—but the substance had been very different. Most of his dates with other partners had involved much less arguing, for example. But even so, he simply couldn't imagine anything he would have preferred doing.

And now here they were. At the finish of the coffee that was meant to be the finish of their evening together.

. . . Perhaps. There had been certain looks Carolyn had been giving him, a certain hesitation when he'd casually mentioned that he really should keep to decaffeinated coffee instead of wine if he was to be driving home shortly, that had led him to believe that the evening wasn't quite so finished after all.

Now to test whether he'd gained the degree of skill at Carolyn-watching he thought he had.

He set aside his mug, letting it click onto the coaster. "Well. It's about time I was off home—it's getting late."

"Is it? Well, I suppose _some_ people might consider this 'late,'" she answered . . . but there, there was that hesitation again. A nudge was all it would take to settle her in one direction or the other.

He pressed his hands against his knees, leaned forward to stand. . . .

"If you'd like—" The words came out all in one go. "If you'd like, you could go home. Or . . . you could stay here."

"In a guest room, you mean?" he asked, feigning ignorance with a deliberate lack of skill. It was a large step in their relationship, particularly for Carolyn. If she needed an out, he would provide it.

He did so hope she didn't need an out.

"Well, you _could_ stay in one. There are a few spares. But" —and she was watching him out of the corner of her eye— "I do have a large bed. If . . . you didn't mind sharing. . . ."

He couldn't have helped his grin for all the world. "Not in the slightest. It sounds rather cosy."

He made to move closer, but she rose from the couch. "Well . . . good. I'll go slip into something a little more comfortable. Come up when you're ready—it's the last right at the end of the hall."

"Jolly good," he said and just restrained himself from adding that perhaps he'd have that wine now, after all. Or, possibly, champagne.

He made himself wait five minutes or so before following her upstairs. He wanted to give her enough time to change into her "something comfortable" and he didn't want to look overeager, but he also certainly didn't want to give the impression that he didn't care. That was not something he ever wanted Carolyn to believe.

The bedroom door was closed when he arrived; he knocked softly.

"Come in!"

His grin returned at the girlish note in her voice. She seemed to have quickly gone back to her usual self—good for her.

He pushed open the door and stepped inside.

And then he yelped.

And then he clapped a hand over his mouth, because Arthur was asleep at the other end of the house.

And then he only just stopped himself from stumbling back a pace, because Carolyn was wearing fuzzy pyjamas, fuzzy _sheep-print_ pyjamas, and an evil grin.

"Do you like my new pyjamas, Herc?" she asked, feigning some ignorance of her own. "It's remarkable how comfortable they are. Would you like to come see for yourself?"

"They're very . . . nice," he managed. Carolyn's grin somehow grew. "But do you know, I think I'd like them a great deal better if they were on the floor."

It was an old line and poorly executed, but he'd been thrown so far off his stride, he expected he'd be coming down in the next county. He should have known. It was Carolyn—he really should have known.

Carolyn clucked her tongue. "My goodness, Herc, you're so bold! I can't imagine _what_ you might be asking of me."

. . . There. Perhaps he might be able to regain his equal footing after all.

He met Carolyn's eyes (keeping his gaze well away from those blasted pyjamas) and let his voice go low and liquid. "Can't you? Then allow me to demonstrate."

It had been a while since he'd done anything like this, but he still knew how to put on a good show. And he made certain that this show was his best: he had the most important and difficult of audiences to impress.

When the last of his clothing had slipped to the floor, he was most pleased to take in the flush on Carolyn's face and the breathy note in her voice when she said, "Well. That was an . . . acceptable demonstration. But I'm afraid I still don't understand," she added, at a stroke crushing his slow-building hopes. "Perhaps you could come show me."

He took in a long breath. This was the woman he loved standing before him. Surely he could set aside his phobia long enough to share in the pleasure she so greatly deserved.

*

He could, in the end. The undressing was a fair bit less sensual and mutually enjoyable than he usually preferred, and so he was certain to make up for it once they were in bed together. He did rather a good job of it, too, he thought.

After, coming down, Carolyn remarked, "Do you know, I got those pyjamas at a good sale. I think I might pick up another pair."

"Whatever you like," he said, because he knew full well he had no other options.

"Good. I'll do it first thing in the morning."

He shifted closer and pressed a kiss to her still warm cheek. "Perhaps not _first_ thing in the morning."

Her sigh was silent and her relaxation into him was slight, but his heart warmed as if she had turned in his arms and kissed him without restraint.

"Mmm . . . perhaps not."


End file.
